Fairy dust

"You have glitter on your chin," I told the grandmother driving the car while I played semi-competent navigator. "Stay in this lane; we don't want to exit." My borrowed granddaughter was napping in the backseat.

The three of us didn't want to leave the ethereal atmosphere of the Bass Performance Hall in Fort Worth. We didn't want to exit the fairy tale world created by Texas Ballet Theater's lavish Rococco production of "The Sleeping Beauty". We hadn't seen enough of the evil fairy Carabosse's spider-monster in the forest of Act II (which is really the third act).

The young daughters, nieces, and granddaughters in the audience were tired and crabby now. It was time for the show to end. Three hours is a very long time, even in Ballet Princess Land. Tiny girls in velvet and tulle swirly skirts were falling asleep with their heads on grandmas' minks. Girls in matching sister dresses were getting seriously cranky and being carried out by their parents.

I felt lucky to visit this foreign fantasy. Raising three sons, I missed Ballet Princess Land as a mom, just as I skipped the pink aisle at Toys R Us. My nieces have never been conveniently located for auntie outings. Maybe someday I'll be a glitter-chinned grandma myself (no rush, guys!!), and get to enjoy some fuchsia-tutu-sparkling-tiara time. I wouldn't trade a minute of the cowboy/camouflage/ninja/Hot Wheels experience of raising three sons. Still, it might be nice to add some experience with little pink aliens to my resume somewhere down the line. You know, try out some cultural diversity, with or without fairy wings.

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